


Whispers of Shared Ecstasy

by WillowPerpetua



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Rimming, Spanking, volume control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:24:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3355772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets flustered by a raunchy advertisement and Natasha takes the opportunity to explain that sex is not the social taboo that it once was... in detail.<br/>After receiving The Sex Talk from Natasha, Steve and Bucky decide to reenact the good old days of getting off with each other in secret under their neighbor's noses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers of Shared Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!  
> What with that terrible movie coming out today, and all, I wanted to write something that showed a relationship with Dom/sub elements in a healthy, positive light. So here you go! Enjoy.

     Steve, Bucky, and Natasha sit together, comfortably nestled behind the screens of their respective laptops. The quiet of the afternoon settles in around them like a warm blanket, comforting and soft. Steve clicks to open a new window and continue his reading, catching up on the time he missed while he was under the ice. It is as much a force of habit as anything else these days. He and Bucky have both had their fair share of adjusting and learning to do, and there is always something new to learn.  
Steve glances at the ads on the side of the screen and feels his eyes bug out of their sockets like a character cartoon.  
  
     “Whoa.” He says, just a little too loudly. 

     “Problem?” Natasha asks, not looking up from her own screen. 

     “Uh, not really. I mean...” Steve can feel the blush creep up his neck, to his ears and cheeks. “I just didn’t expect—you know what, never mind.” He says, rushing to get the words out. He closes out of the window, but feels like the image must be lingering there, somewhere in his internet history, incriminating and waiting. 

     “What? Was it porn or something?” Natasha asks, her eyes still fixed on her own computer, typing away with perfect calm. 

     “No. Of course not.” Steve answers too quickly. 

     Natasha shuts her laptop. Steve gulps. Bucky stifles the smile that threatens to leak across his face and expose how much he is looking forward to whatever Steve has set himself up for. 

     “It’s perfectly normal, Steve.” She holds up a hand to silence him. “I’m not getting into a debate with you and your Catholic guilt about the dangers of masturbation. That’s between you and your God.” She says, and that is definitely a snort that Steve hears from Bucky’s side of the room. “And I am not going to debate the pros and cons of the pornography industry with you right now. I’m just going to say this, and say this _once:”_ Natasha says with the kind of intensity with which Steve has learned not to argue, “People talk about sex these days.” 

 

     “Excuse me?” Steve says, feeling his throat go dry. He doesn’t imagine that he could talk about the weather or a recipe for a casserole right now, let alone sex. 

     “It is not the taboo that it used to be. Sure, society hasn’t come a very long way, but you’re allowed to talk about it. Everybody does.” Natasha says, and her tone is as kind as she can make it. 

     “Well, it’s not like I haven’t noticed. I mean, I have watched TV.” Steve says, bracing as if for a fight.

     “…been outside, looked at a billboard, seen a magazine, existed as a human…” Bucky says before he can stop himself. “It’s true, Steve. It’s everywhere.”

     “Yeah. I know that.” Steve says, his arms crossed in front of him. “The thing on my computer wasn’t just a sex thing, though.” He crosses his legs, too. His posture is as closed off as it is possible to be without a sign that says _keep out_ taped across his forehead. 

     “Well, then, what was it?” Bucky asks. Steve gives him pleading look that asks him not to push any further. Bucky knows that look. “Oh.” He says, shutting up, but Natasha doesn’t get the hint.

     “So it was something kinky, then.” Natasha says. “Oh, come off it, Steve. What consenting adults get up to in the privacy of their own dungeons is none of your business.” 

     “Good lord, Natasha.” Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

     “Anyway, you shouldn’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.” Natasha says. 

     “Tried—“

     “Fetishes. Kinks. Anyway, BDSM is much more highly regarded than it used to be. It isn’t just tying people up and hitting them, and I ought to know. Let’s face it, half of my job is tying people up and hitting them, or vice-versa.” Natasha looks perfectly sincere. There is not a trace of mockery in her expression. Steve feels like he might spontaneously combust on the spot, and better yet, he might be okay with that. He doesn’t have it in him to glare at Bucky, but if he could turn his head, he would see that Bucky is nearly in tears with the effort of not exploding in laughter. 

     “What exactly are you getting at?” Steve asks, staring a hole into the floor. 

     “I’m just saying, there is a lot that goes into it. There are all kinds of communities, on the internet or in person. Lots of options out there for people who want to figure out that part of themselves. It is nothing to be ashamed of, unless, you know, shame is your thing.” Natasha goes on. Steve can tell that the only way to get out of this is to let Natasha keep talking. 

     “Okay.” He says, neither agreeing, nor disagreeing, but certainly not looking at Bucky.

     “Anyway, I know how you are, Cap, so before you get yourself worked up into a fit of righteousness, you should know that in a healthy BDSM relationship, the sub knows what is

going on. They don’t walk into anything blindly. There is a whole process of communication before anything serious goes down. If a scene gets too intense for anybody involved, they use a safeword. The motto for the whole community is Safe, Sane, and Consensual.” 

     “Okay.” Steve says again, that hole in the floor getting a whole lot deeper. 

    “So then,” Natasha goes on as if she hadn’t heard him, “when people do get into whatever gets them off, they can be comfortable getting their needs met.” She says. 

     “You sound like you’re reaching a point.” Bucky says, now that he no longer needs to cram his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing at the look on Steve’s face. 

     “No point, really. I just didn’t want Steve to punch some poor Dom’s lights out without knowing the whole story.” 

     “Okay.” Steve says for a third time. He sinks lower in his seat on the couch. 

     “Anyway, gentlemen,” Natasha says, placing her computer in her bag and standing up, “I’ve got business to attend to. Better not say where or why. See you later.” She is already on her way out the door before she turns back with a knowing, wicked smile. “Don’t do anything too naughty.” She says.

  
     A silence so thick that Bucky could slice it with one of his knives fills the space when Natasha closes the door behind her. 

     “Do you think she knows?” Steve asks. 

     “I don’t really care right now. If she does, I am going to send her a thank you card, though. Watching you squirm like that was priceless.” Bucky says. 

     “Can we do something now, or should I keep squirming?” Steve asks, uncrossing his legs, finally relaxing back against the couch cushions. 

     “Well, that depends,” Bucks asks. “Were you planning on punching my lights out for bossing you around in the bedroom before Nat so helpfully told us that people do that kind of thing nowadays?” Bucky asks, unable to keep the giggles inside any longer. He hears Steve laugh too and knows it is going to be alright. 

     Bucky can’t help glancing down between Steve’s legs where he bulges against the restraint of his pants. Steve doesn’t have to wait for his answer. Bucky is already crouching over him, bearing down to unbutton Steve’s shirt, biting at the hollow of his throat, his clavicle, his chest, as each button is undone. He stops when Steve’s nipples are exposed and takes one into his mouth, sucking hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from beneath him. He draws away to look at Steve with a triumphant smile. Earning sounds from him always feels like a victory. 

     “What do you want, Steve?” 

     “Anything you will give me, Sir.” Steve says, his voice higher than usual. Pliant. It sends a jolt of interest straight through Bucky. Steve has not called Bucky “Sir” in so long. Just the word alone makes him feel as if he might burst. He finds both of Steve’s hands with his own and takes his wrists in his left, metal hand, holding him still. 

     “I want to fuck you like we used to fuck.” Bucky whispers, close to Steve’s ear. “We’ll take our time, be quiet, just like anybody could hear us through the walls.” 

     “Uh, uh” Steve pants beneath Bucky, already breathless at the thought, “Mr. and Mrs. Post. Their bedroom shared a wall with ours.” Steve says while Bucky moves above him just enough to provide him with no relief at all. 

     “That’s right.” Bucky says, placing a gentle kiss on Steve’s neck. “You can’t let them hear us, Stevie. Everybody in the building’s got suspicions as it is.”

     “I’m sorry, sir.” Steve says, pushing his hips up as Bucky grinds down. 

     “Here’s the other thing.” Bucky says. “Last time, you came all over the sheets and then I fell asleep in it.” He pulls Steve’s hair for emphasis. This is true. The last time, back in Brooklyn—before the war and Bucky’s fall and the ice and the Avengers—the very last time that Steve and Bucky got to have a slow, good, satisfying fuck, that was exactly what happened. “This time,” Bucky goes on, “you come in my mouth, or you don’t come at all.” 

     The sound that Steve makes is hardly human. He is so enraptured with the idea that he nearly forgets what they are doing until a sharp tug on his hair brings him back into himself again. 

     “What do you say?” Bucky asks. 

     “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Steve breathes out. 

     “Remind me.” Bucky says. “What did you used to say, if you needed a breather?” The question makes Steve smile. He hasn’t thought about it in years. 

     “I said there was ‘wet paint.’” He answers. 

     “You tell me if I’m about to get paint on myself while we’re doing this, okay?” Bucky says. It is the first time Steve has heard any kind of uncertainty in his voice. He presses his lips to Bucky’s with the utmost care. 

    “Of course, Buck.” He says.

 

     Bucky undresses Steve slowly, methodically. He takes his time taking Steve apart. He used to do this to check for damage from back alley fights, to make sure that Steve’s brave front was not concealing anything more sinister. Then it became something else entirely. Undressing Steve is like unwrapping a present. This time, it is like unwrapping a much larger present, there is so much more of him than there used to be.  
       
     Despite the changes, Bucky licks, sucks, and bites at all the places that used to make Steve go wild: behind his ear, of course, but also just inside of his elbow, at the back of his shoulder, behind his knee, on his hips. He knows Steve’s body as if he has studied it for years, and, indeed, he has. Steve reclines, feeling Bucky administer his attention, completely at his mercy. His cock rests, dark and hard, against his abdomen aching and untouched. 

      “Please, Buck, please.” Steve moans. 

     “Excuse me?” Bucky says, glancing up from Steve’s thigh where he has been devoutly pressing his teeth and tongue to just the right degree, leaving Steve helpless and desperate.  
  
     “Please, Sir.” Steve corrects himself. His hands are balled into fists at his side. “I need to touch you.” He asks.  
  
     “Good boy.” Bucky smiles. “You may.” The permission makes Steve exhale a sigh of relief and run his hands through Bucky’s hair, soaking up every ounce of tactile pleasure at the contact. Steve’s hands caress Bucky’s neck and curl around his ear, but they never guide him. Bucky knows where this is going. He will give Steve what he wants when he is ready for it. Steve’s chest rises and falls faster and faster in anticipation.  
  
     Eventually, mercifully , Bucky’s lips close around the leaking head of Steve’s cock. He swipes his tongue along the slit and collects the bitter, salty flavor pooled there. Steve throws his head back and moans just a bit too loudly. Bucky stops and catches Steve’s eye. He raises his eyebrows, but does not have to speak. The admonishment is clear enough.  
  
     “I’m sorry, Sir.” Steve whispers. _Don’t stop_ , he thinks. _Don’t stop_. But Bucky has already moved away. He knows better than to ask for him to come back. Bucky has a plan. This is the one time when Steve doesn’t need to.  
  
     “Anybody coulda heard that, Stevie.” Bucky says. Steve hears his accent come out stronger than it has since Bucky came back. It sounds good. It sounds like home. “We can’t be messin’ around like this if somebody’s gonna find out. Am I gonna have to stuff a sock in there to make you shut your trap?” He asks. He says the words in a good natured way, with a smirk. The choice is Steve’s.  
  
     “No, sir.” Steve says. _Maybe._ He thinks. _I might like the sound of that._ But Steve wants to be able to kiss Bucky, if that’s what Bucky thinks he deserves. “I’ll do better.”  
  
     “I know you will, baby.” Bucky says, returning to Steve with a condom and lube in hand. He kisses Steve’s brow, already slightly shiny with sweat, and then leans in close to whisper, his breath hot on Steve’s ear, “Turn over.”  
  
     “Mmn.” Steve hums happily as he does as Bucky says. “Thank you, Sir.”  
  
     “That’s right.” Bucky murmurs, running the back of his hand gently, softly down Steve’s back, along the dip of his spine and over the curve of his ass. When he reaches the fullest point of that curve, Bucky’s hand stalls for just a moment, appreciating the weight and heat that the sensors pick up. He grips Steve firmly, squeezing a handful of flesh before releasing it in favor of giving him a short, sharp smack.  Steve barely remembers his promise to keep quiet. It doesn’t hurt—quite the opposite, really. He feels, more than hears, Bucky laughing behind him.  
  
     “Good boy.” Bucky says. That was a test. It would seem that Steve passed.  
  
     “If I’m so good, does that mean you’ll do it again?” Steve asks, looking over his shoulder. Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleased if a little surprised. In the past, Steve was never one for much foreplay. Between the risk of getting caught and way they burned off sexual tension in explosions, Steve was usually begging Bucky to stick it in him before they got the door locked. Not today, Bucky thinks. He can forgive Steve this anachronism.  
  
     The second blow is stronger. Steve watches as Bucky’s hand collides with his skin and reacts with a silent, ecstatic exhalation, open mouthed while his eyes flutter shut. Bucky wonders if he has ever seen anything so beautiful. Steve lets his head drop forward and feels the tension drain out of him. He is here, present, taken care of. This is good, he thinks.  
  
     “Steve.” Bucky says, under his breath.  
  
     “Again. Oh god, please.” Steve asks. Bucky obliges, the impact sending a ripple through the flesh of Steve’s ass and down the back of his thigh. “Augh!” Steve moans, barely above a whisper. He grabs a cushion and stuffs it under his face to muffle the sound.  
  
     “You want more?” Bucky asks. Steve nods. His face is buried but the back of his neck is scarlet. After a series of slaps in quick succession, his bottom is a shade that almost matches.  
  
     Steve is braced for the onslaught to continue. He revels in it, feeling Bucky push at limits he never could have tried before. The next spanking doesn’t come. Steve waits, feeling the blood heating up his flesh, his accelerated healing already taking care of what would have been a nasty bruise on anybody else.  
  
     Instead of Bucky’s hand descending for another round, he feels Bucky’s lips and tongue. Steve springs forward in surprise, only to be pulled back by Bucky’s hands on his hips. He settles into the warmth and wetness. The softness of Bucky’s mouth makes such a contrast to the unforgiving spanking. He has to press the cushion to his face to muffle the sounds that he makes. Even still, Bucky draws away just enough to shush him.  
  
     The ghost of breath against Steve in the form of Bucky’s “Shhhh…” is enough to make Steve gasp and push a hand down between his legs. Bucky chuckles and reaches for his wrist, pulling Steve’s arm behind him and holding it at the small of his back.  
  
     “Do I need to tie you up?” Bucky asks.  
  
     “Not right now.” Steve says.  
  
     “Then be good.” Bucky gives Steve’s wrist a gentle squeeze.  
  
     “Will you hold me, please?” Steve asks.  
  
     “Of course, baby. Always.” Bucky says. He keeps his grip on Steve firm as he returns to the task at hand. “You’re gonna open the lube for me, ‘cause I got my hands full at the moment.” Bucky says. Steve reaches out blindly for it, hand closing around the packet. He tears it open and presses it to Bucky’s free, hand. Their fingers brush together in the exchange. The smallest intimacies are the ones that send them both through the roof. Even with Bucky’s face nestled into Steve’s ass, it is the simple touch of their hands that has them scrambling to get more of each other.  
  
     “Please,” Steve whispers.  
  
     “Patience.” Bucky says, but he has already leaned back on his haunches to examine Steve and coat a finger with lube before breaching him. The stretch is perfect, just the way they both remember it. Steve rocks back to meet Bucky’s hand. “Patience,” Bucky repeats, twisting Steve’s arm behind his back just enough to put pressure on the muscles. The hold locks him in place. Bucky’s other hand, warm and gentle, returns to the task of opening Steve up and mapping him out.  
  
     “Oh!” Steve moans. Bucky puts a little more pressure on his arm. “Mmh” he sighs into the pillow. Bucky works another finger inside, crooking his fingers in the same way and drawing a series of moans, each at just the right volume, just on the right side of quiet.  
  
     When a third finger joins the others, Steve’s free hand reaches out to grasp the back of the couch, clutching, white knuckled, with the restraint that he employs not to whine, or moan, or shout out. This is turning into hard work. He glances over his shoulder.  
  
     “Please, Buck—Sir, God. Please.” He begs, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
     “Yes, good boy.” Bucky says, smiling down at Steve.  
  
     “Thank you, Sir.” Steve breathes out the words so quietly that Bucky might have lost them if every ounce of attention that he possessed were not focused entirely on him alone. He unwraps his fingers from around Steve’s wrist, and settles back on his haunches again for a moment to tear open the condom and roll it down himself as quickly and efficiently as he can. Steve doesn’t move from his position by a fraction of an inch.  
  
     “So good.” Bucky mutters to himself as he slicks himself up, watching Steve’s ribs expand and contract with steady, measured breaths. Bucky gives Steve one more forceful smack on the ass, which echoes through the stillness of the air like a gunshot and then resumes his hold on Steve’s wrist while he guides himself into him with his warmer and softer hand.  
  
     Through all of this, Steve stays perfectly still. It is not until Bucky is buried as far into Steve as he can go that he throws his head back and lets out a soft mew of a whine. Bucky looks down, and Steve looks up into his face with a slight trace of defiance, a look that seems to say “ _I got what I want, now what are you going to do about it?”_ Bucky loves that look. He loves it the same way he loves Steve’s voice first thing in the morning, or the way Steve still comes home with smudges of graphite on his hands while Bucky gets traces of gunpowder on his own. He loves this look because it is Steve, and that’s all that matters.  
  
    His hips rock backward, just enough for it to mean something when he pushes them forward, the impact jarring them both out of their blissful state of anticipation and into the reality of the present. Bucky moves from a gentle rock to a gallop, pressing forward and drawing back with strength and surety in his movements. The tightness and heat around him pull him deeper into the frantic pace that he sets.  
  
     Steve is malleable against Bucky as they fuck, allowing him to bend him to his will. The only thing that he fights are the sounds that he so desperately wants to make. His moans come out strangled and warped. It sends a thrill through Bucky, hearing Steve choke back the whimpers that come clawing up from his throat anyway.  
  
     “Shh” Bucky whispers against Steve’s ear.  
  
     “Sir, I’m going—I need—“  
  
     “Not yet.” Bucky says. His voice is louder than it has been since they started, nearly normal volume. “Remember what I said, Stevie.”  
  
     “Oh, oh, fuck.” Steve pants.  
  
     “What did I say?” Bucky asks, slapping Steve’s ass just hard enough to shock an answer out of him.  
  
     “Your mouth.” Steve whispers, “In… in your mouth, or—“  
  
     “Or not at all.” Bucky supplies. “Tell me, Steve, is my mouth anywhere near your dick right now?” Bucky asks.  
  
     “No, Sir.” Steve says, nearly whimpering.  
  
     “Then you’re not coming yet.” Bucky says before redoubling his efforts. The way he moves his hips is unforgiving, relentless. Steve shakes with the effort to keep himself together, but he restrains himself. Bucky tenses behind him, his body locked up as hard and taut as the metal arm to which it is attached. He feels the orgasm crash through him, sending wave after wave of pleasure spiraling up his spine. He pushes through it, fucking Steve for all he is worth until he can do nothing but collapse under the weight of the exhaustion.  
  
     When Bucky is done, he pulls out, releases Steve’s wrist, and flips him over in one fluid motion. Bucky curls over Steve, leaning in agonizingly slowly. As he opens his mouth, his eyes flit upward to Steve’s, and what he sees there is pure desperation. He extends his tongue beyond his lips and licks at the head of Steve’s cock.  
  
     “Ah,” Steve whispers, a sharp sound at the top of his mouth “uh, uh, uh,” the breaths come with a touch of voice to them. Bucky’s lips close around Steve’s cock and it is all the permission that he needs. Steve comes and he feels it all the way down to his toes. He is lost in the feeling of it, swept to sea by Bucky’s mouth around him and his hands on his thighs and the brush of his hair against his hip.

***Meanwhile***

  
     Clint watches TV with the closed captioning turned on while Natasha rests her feet in his lap. She returned from Steve and Bucky’s apartment, the one above theirs, an hour ago with a smug expression and flatly refused to explain herself.  
  
     The rhythmic scraping and banging sound has gone on for the past forty-five minutes or so. Clint raised an eyebrow at Natasha when it began, to which she simply shrugged, her face impassive, as if to say, _“It’s Steve—that sound could be anything.”_  
  
     Now, however, they both startle as they hear an ear-shattering howl from the floor above them. It sounds pained and ecstatic and unmistakable. The voice is Steve’s, deep and resonant, and so loud that it vibrates all the way into their home a floor away. Natasha looks as pleased as Steve sounds.  
  
     “The fuck was that?” Clint asks, although he is pretty sure he knows.  
  
     “Remember when I said they were into the kinky shit?” Natasha says, her expression set and perfectly removed again. Clint nods, his eyes growing wide with the revelation. “You owe me ten bucks.” She says, returning her attention to the TV.

***

     When Steve opens eyes he does not remember squeezing shut, he sees Bucky looming over him with a satisfied smile. Steve pulls Bucky down to him, their lips crashing together.  
  
      “I love you.” he says it louder than necessary, so that the sound fills up the room. Bucky kisses him again and folds their hands together.  
  
     “I love you too.” Bucky replies, equally as loud.


End file.
